Afghanistan
by KaosCumberbatch
Summary: Johnlock. Feels because that's how I roll. John is deployed. If you didn't get that from the title. M for sex. I wish I could have kept it a secret but I had to rate it and it's only chapter 4. WARNING: Spoilers in reviews just warning you. Anyway, enjoy!
1. I Promise

**Author's Note: **Feels. I plan on naming my chapters so... Yeah. If you have a better title idea, tell me.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock we need to talk."<p>

"I'm composing, John. Not now."

"Sherlock…"

"Not now!"

John didn't move and I could feel his eyes on me. I sighed, rolling my eyes, and turned to face him.

"What?" I asked.

He came over to me and took my violin, placing it in my chair. I watched him as he came back over and took my wrist, leading me to the sofa. I looked him over with narrowed eyes and bit my lip. He sat down and pulled me with him.

"John…?" Something was wrong, obviously, but I couldn't figure out what.

_The milk? Or the burned spot on the carpet? Maybe the blue shower water? The head in the fridge again?_

_No. He's not angry. He's sad. Upset._

_Birthday? No, I would never forget that._

"What is it?"

He took a deep breath that shook as it passed his lips as he played with my sleeve. He wouldn't look me in the eye. "I… I have to go," he said in almost a whisper.

"Go? Go where?"

He didn't answer. Then it hit me. My heart started pounding and my throat closed up. He hadn't even said it and it hurt worse than I had ever imagined.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Afghanistan," he croaked.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I felt sick. We had only just met a few months ago. We just got this new flat together. He just told me that he loved me.

Maybe this is what I get for pushing him away. It's not like I don't care for him. I do. Maybe a bit too much than is good for me. And I think he knew that. At least I hope he did. But I don't think he understood. I don't either.

I don't know what "love" is supposed to feel like, but I think maybe a part of me _is_ in love with him. Just going by what others say. "Hearts racing every time you hear his name," "butterflies whenever he touches you," and "everything he does makes you melt."

Actually, when one puts it that way, it sounds rather disgusting. And highly unpleasant.

But it didn't matter. Whether I love him or not, he's my best friend, the best thing that has ever happened to me, and he was being taken away from me.

"C-Can't you tell them you don't want to go?" I asked weakly.

"It doesn't work like that, Sherl."

"When?"

_When are you leaving me? How long do I have to change your mind? To change my mind? How long are you still mine for?_

"I leave in a month." He shook his head and wiped his eyes. "I'm so sorry…"

"John…" I put my hand on his cheek and he looked up at me, his lip quivering. My throat felt even tighter than before and my eyes started to water, blurring my vision. "You said you wouldn't ever leave me," I whispered as I blinked hard, letting a tear roll down my face.

He smiled sadly and wiped it away with his finger. "It's gonna be alright. I'll be okay."

I pulled him into a tight hug, never wanting to let go. I felt his hands slowly move around my waist and press against my back.

"I don't want you to go, John. I am lost without you." My voice was muffled against his shoulder along with my deep, choking sobs. The kind I would have been embarrassed of at any other time.

"I'll write. As often as I can."

I pulled away and touched his cheek again. He already felt far away.

"Will you come back to me?"

He nodded slowly, giving me a small smile. "Yes."

"Promise me."

He hesitated slightly. Maybe because he knew he could never do such a thing with as much confidence as he would like. Or as I would. We both knew it was a silly thing to say, but I suppose I felt that if I heard him say it, I would know that he had something to live for. And perhaps he would, too.

"I promise."


	2. I Love You, Sherlock

**Author's Note: **Chapter 2 as promised.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks felt so short. I didn't do as many cases now. I couldn't bring myself to because I wanted to spend as much time as I possibly could. I couldn't focus. All I could think about was the day I would have to say goodbye, maybe for the last time.<p>

I laid up in bed late every night and thought about how empty this place would be. How awkward I would look when I showed up to crime scenes alone, maybe stumbling over my own feet from too many drugs. Just like before he came. I was so awkward then. And hated. God, they all hated me so much, but they needed me. That's the only reason I was still around. Maybe I still am hated, but John made it bearable. Because he didn't hate me. He thought I was fascinating. Brilliant.

"_I love you, Sherlock."_

And that's usually when I would curl up in a ball as tight as I could and try to sleep with his voice echoing in my head.

People always tell you to "be positive." "Don't focus on the bad stuff and imagine what it will be like when he comes back."

When?

How about "if"?

I wish it were that easy. They haven't lived through it so they can never understand.

That's the worst one. "I understand."

You don't.

Just imagine your friend, your best friend in the world, fighting for his life for two years in some foreign country where anything could happen. All it takes is one false step.

He's spent the past few days saying goodbye to his old friends and distant family members. I'm jealous of every second.

Maybe it's childish, but I couldn't help it. I wanted as much time with him as I could get before he left. I needed that time.


	3. Three Days

**Author's Note: **Since Chapter 2 and 3 are sort of short... Here. Chapter 4 on Friday, November 7th. *giggles excitedly*

* * *

><p>Three days. Three days before I had to wake up and drive him to the airport. Three days before he would board that bloody plane and leave me for two years. He was in training before we even met so I had no clue what it will be like to not have him around. He wasn't in any real danger then, either. I had three days before I would fall asleep knowing that he was a thousand miles away, fighting for his life every minute.<p>

This was the day he took for special people. Hudders, Harry, his parents. All of them left with a hug, some tears and a promise that could so easily be broken just by one bullet, or a young doctor too flustered to know what to do.


	4. I'm Yours Forever

**Author's Note: **WARNING: fuck you. *Aggressively throws chapter 4 at you* *Runs off flailing* Yeah I know I said on Friday but Benedict is engaged and I'm having so many emotions so...

* * *

><p>I woke up that night to John screaming in his room. I jumped up and rushed upstairs, throwing his door open.<p>

"John!" I ran over to his bed, looking him over and frantically moving his sheets away. "What's wrong?" I asked, out of breath.

He was curled up in a tight ball, shaking with each uneven breath. He looked up at me and swallowed hard.

"Just a nightmare," he whispered. "I'll be fine."

I nodded and went back to the door.

"Sorry I woke you."

I turned to him with a smile. "I don't mind. If you need me, you know where I am."

He nodded and muttered, "Thank you."

I smiled and looked down as I left, closing his door softly behind me. I went back to my room and laid in bed, looking up at the ceiling. Eventually I closed my eyes, but I couldn't sleep. I worried about him. Constantly.

I sat up when I heard a soft knock on my door.

"John?"

He opened it slowly, peeking in. "Hey, can I… Can I come in?" he whispered with that stupid half-smirk he does.

"Of course."

He stepped in and closed the door after him.

"What's wrong?"

He sat on the edge of my bed and fumbled with the sheets. "I can't sleep."

I grinned and felt my cheeks get warm. "And you want to stay with me tonight?"

He swallowed hard, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "If you'll let me."

I nodded, shifting over and pat the bed next to me. "Come here."

He smiled and crawled into bed, pulling the sheets up over his shoulders.

"Thank you," he whispered.

After a moment of watching him, I moved a bit closer and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"Sherlock…"

"Yes?"

"Why?" he asked nervously even as his arms went around my waist.

"Do you mind?"

"I think we both know the answer to that…"

"You seemed cold." I smiled and closed my eyes. "Go to sleep."

He buried his face in my neck and I shivered as I felt his breath on my neck. We laid there for a long time before he whispered my name.

"Sherl?"

"Yeah…?"

"When I say I love you what I mean is…"

He cleared his throat and my heart started to race again.

"I mean that you're the most important person in my life and I couldn't bear to lose you. I mean that your happiness is the most important thing to me. I mean that the only time I truly fear as others do is when I think of you in harm. When I say I love you I mean that I love everything about you. Even the snarky and annoying bits that come with you. I love you as you are. I mean that I want to feel you next to me every night when I go to bed and I want to wake up to your smile. I love that I'm the only one who gets to see you for who you really are. I get to see that smile and it's best when I'm the reason. I mean that you make my life better and maybe in some other world and reality I would like to stay with you and have a family someday. I want to be the one you turn to when you hurt. When I say that I love you, I mean it with everything inside me."

Tears started to form in my eyes. "John, I-"

"I'm sorry." He curled up closer to me, hiding his face. "God, I shouldn't have said that."

"I-I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. It's fine."

I swallowed hard and put my hand under his chin, making him look at me. He looked into my eyes and I glanced at his lips before pressing mine to his.

He was shocked at first, but I knew he didn't mind.

The kiss was awkward. It was all so foreign to me as I had never allowed myself to love anyone. I guess it's mostly because I was afraid of having my heart broken. It was different with John, though I couldn't explain why. If he broke my heart, it would hurt like hell, but I wouldn't want it to be anyone else.

I didn't know how to do it. It was my first kiss. It was awkward and uncomfortable with him laying on my arm. When he rolled up onto my chest, it was better for my arm but it made it more difficult to breathe. It was feverish but slow, passionate but gentle. He ran his hands through my hair as our lips moved together and a small squeak escaped my throat. I blushed, but he didn't seem to mind it. If anything, he grinned.

It was awkward and uncomfortable and hot and breathless and perfect in every single way.

_He _was perfect.

He pulled away and rested on my chest.

"How do you do that?" I whispered.

"Do what?"

"Turn me inside out…"

He smiled up at me and then gently kissed my neck. I whimpered softly as I felt a quick rush of heat go down between my legs.

His hands went up under my shirt and roamed my chest. And before I knew it, I was laying in my bed in my underwear with John Watson on top of me.

He asked me at least ten times if I was ready and every time I said I was. That didn't change the fact that I was terrified, of course.

He asked me one last time as he kissed me softly. I nodded.

"Okay… But if you need me to stop, just tell me."

I nodded again, looking up into his deep blue eyes. "I'm yours…" I whispered. "Forever."

And then he made love to me.*****

At two in the morning.

It was filled with hot, quick breaths, soft moans, sweet kisses, light nibbles, and gentle, wandering hands.

And it hurt. Bloody hell, it hurt. But he was so slow. So careful.

It all happened so quickly. It ended with my whole body jolting against his. One last shudder. One last embarrassing sound escaping from the back of my throat.

And then he laid next to me, draping his arm over my stomach and resting his head on my shoulder.

He fell asleep there and snored softly.

"I love you, too, John Watson…" I whispered before drifting out of this beautiful, yet painful, heart-rending reality.

* * *

><p><strong>*<strong>Please note my word choice. "Made love" and "had sex" are two totally different things. Just keep that in mind. That will be all. Dismissed.


	5. The Day When You Stop Loving Me

**Author's Note: **Fluff like woah. Next chapter on Friday. Next week. I will not break this time.

* * *

><p>The next night John and I went for a walk in the park. Not really my type of thing, but I suppose it helped to clear my head.<p>

Clear it? It made it even more of a mess if anything. Not enough to distract me.

It was nice out, just like it always is in the movies. How nice. The moon looked huge and gave everything a white light. There were a few clouds, but you could still see the stars.

We walked in silence, our feet crunching in the tiny layer of snow on the ground. There was no one else in sight, which was nice. Perhaps that's why I like the night so much better. It made it seem like there was less stupid in the world.

I felt him glance at me every so often as we walked. He brought his hands from his pockets, so obviously I had to take advantage. I reached for his hand and laced our fingers together.

He looked down at our hands and then back up at me with a smile. It was unexpected by us both but he seemed happy with it and I didn't mind. It felt a little strange but that's what people do, right? Hold each other's hands?

I looked down at my feet, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. I heard him giggle as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

We walked on a while and suddenly he turned, leading me over to an old swingset with wooden seats that I was sure were close to rotting. He let go of my hand and sat on one of them. I stood watching for a moment before tentatively sitting next to him.

He folded his hands in front of him and stared at the ground as he slowly moved back and forth. I could tell there was something on his mind but he didn't know how to say it.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, watching my warm breath mix with the cold air in a mysterious cloud that looked like smoke.

As I watched it I felt the need for a cigarette.

But I promised him I would stop.

He shook his head and looked away.

"John?" I turned to him. "What is it?"

He sniffed and shrugged. "Everything, I guess."

I looked down at my shoes as I fiddled with my sleeves.

"I'm just afraid that… If I die-"

"Don't talk like that," I said, cutting him off.

"No, I mean it." He looked at me and sighed. "If I die, I don't want you to… Find someone else."

I narrowed my eyes and looked away, blushing.

"I guess it's selfish and I want you to be happy, I do. I really just… I wanted to be the only one. I don't want to see the day when you stop loving me."

"John, you've met me. Who would be so ridiculous as to even put up with me like you do?"

That made him smile. I smiled then, too, and whispered, "Besides… Death cannot stop true love."

"You got that from a book."

"Everyone got that from a book."

He laughed softly. "You believe in true love?"

"I don't know, John. But I think I was put here for a reason. I think I was made to have another half and the the other half of someone else."

He didn't reply for a moment so I figured I said it wrong.

"I mean-"

"I know what you mean. And you think that's me?" he asked quietly.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Unless you have a better explanation for this tickle I get in my stomach every time you look at me…"

I closed my eyes and blushed profusely. I felt his warm lips on my cheek and my eyes snapped open. He laughed at me and started to swing higher.

I smiled nervously and bit my lip.

"Come on, Sherl."

"John, you know I don't- Ouch!"

He had hit my arm as he passed me and I started to swing with him, laughing the whole time.

"I bet I can jump further than you," he teased.

"I bet not," I called back.

We lined up the swings and he counted down. On three we both jumped and rolled in the snow.

I let him win, of course, but not by much.

He laughed again and I grabbed a handful of snow and threw it at his shoulder.

He stopped laughing and stared at me.

"You fucker," he whispered and started to get up.

I rolled over and scrambled to my feet, running away as fast as I could.

He ran after me and I couldn't help but laugh. That slowed me down a bit. He eventually caught up and dove for my legs, knocking me down. I tried to get away but he dragged me back. He rolled me over on my back and smiled down at me. I found myself lost in those deep blue eyes again.

His cold hand reached to stroke my cheek as he kissed me slowly and passionately, like the first time.

His fingers left my face and he reached for my trousers. He had to be mad. If he really wanted this _here _he had to be. And in the snow?

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt freezing snow down my pants.

He got up and ran a few yards away as I stood up and danced around.

"It's so cold! So cold… Ahh… Fuck you. Cold. It's cold."

He had his hands on his knees as he laughed so hard his face turned red and his eyes watered.

My teeth were chattering now as I glared at him. I took off after him, chasing him all the way back to the flat.

I came inside panting and heard him upstairs in the kitchen. My throat burned from running in the cold. I went up to the bathroom to shower, leaving my clothes in a trail behind me on the floor.

I stood under that steaming water for at least half an hour before wrapping a towel around my waist and heading back to my bedroom.

John was sitting on my bed, staring at his laptop. He looked up when I entered and flashed me a smile.

"This isn't over," I said as I went to my dresser, pulling out my pajamas.

"Oh?"

I nodded and turned away. Maybe it was silly, but I was so self-conscious about him seeing me. He already had so I don't know what the big deal was. It just felt strange. Maybe because it was just hard to believe.

I dropped my towel to the floor and my hands shook as I pulled on my pants and slipped

my shirt over my head. I took a deep breath, trying to slow my heart to normal again.

I crawled into bed next to him and he shut his laptop and set it on the floor. I reached over to turn off my lamp as he slid under the covers.

As I turned back to him, I felt his arm drape over my waist and he rested his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes as I felt his warm breath against my lips.

I leaned in to kiss him gently and whispered, "Goodnight, John."

He giggled and whispered back, "I'm fairly sure it's morning by now, Sherl."

"Whatever," I said as I put my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

He kissed me back and then nuzzled into my chest.

After a while, I heard his faint snoring. I held him closer and cried myself to sleep. The way I used to do every night before I met him. Every night in my old house. Back with my family.

It was bad back then, of course. But this is worse.

A lot worse.

I'm not ready.

He's the one going to war and _I'm _not ready.


	6. Author's Note

**Author's Note:** The struggles. Also known as The Story Of My Life. *bursts into One Direction and blames Mary* If I reference you... It means I love you. THIS IS NOT PART OF THE FIC  I just feel like you all needed to have some happy stuff I'm not on drugs I swear. But swearing is bad. *koala noises*

* * *

><p><strong><em>I need to update my fanfic!<em>**

You've just posted a chapter!

**_That was last Friday. When's the next one?_**

Two days. You can make it.

**_I KHAN'T._**

You must.

**_It's killing me._**

You promised.

**_I DIDN'T PINKY PROMISE!_**

You're on drugs.

**_Always, John._**

I wish you'd calm down.

**_I wish you'd stop thinking about your girlfriend and use your upstairs brain to help me through this crisis._**

She has a name.

**_Phoebe. I hope she gets ebola. *think think mind palace* … *gasp*_**

What?... Oh, God, please don't.

**_PHOEBOLA!_**

Jesus Christ… You need to stop right now.

**_*flails around 221B "like a fairy"* Phoebola, Phoebola, PHOEEEEEEEEEEBOOOOOOOOOLAAAAAAA!_**

You're hopeless.

**_*insane giggling* FANFICTION._**

* * *

><p>Now do you understand what I go through?<p> 


	7. Would You Miss Me?

**Author's Note: **I'm sorry about that last... Thing. Whatever it was. I just get so excited about posting chapters so you get two today... I am weak. Also I did notice that typo in chapter 5 and it is fixed. Someone goes "I think there's a typo..?" and I literally thought about changing my name and moving to a new country.

* * *

><p>His last day. He had packed his things most of that day and tried to prepare himself but going to war, I suppose there's not much you can do.<p>

I sat on the sofa with him as we talked about everything and nothing. I hardly listened as I took his hand in mine, kissing the back of it.

"Sherl?"  
>"Hmm?"<p>

"What are you doing?"

"Kissing your hand, obviously."

He laughed softly as he asked, "Why?"

"Am I not allowed to?"

"I suppose… Would you umm… Do you think you could maybe play for me? Just a little."

So I played the violin for him one last time. I played almost everything I knew and a few I had composed myself. I closed my eyes as I played, pouring everything I had into each piece. I finished off with the song I wrote for him. He enjoyed it, as he usually did, but this time I think he appreciated it even more. I looked at him and saw him smiling at me. My cheeks felt warm and set down my violin.

"Sherlock, I'm not sure I'm ready for this," he said, his smile fading.

I walked over to the couch and sat next to him again.

"It's okay," I whispered as I took his hands in mine.

"I don't want to leave you here alone. Who will do the shopping?"

I couldn't help laughing a bit. "Don't worry about me."

He nodded and looked at our hands, biting his lip nervously. "Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"What if I don't come back?"

I'm speechless. It feels like there's a knife in my chest. It burns.

Everything burns.

"Would you miss me?"

I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him close as if he would just slip away. I felt like a child clinging to his mother in the dark. After a moment he hugged me back.

"Of course I would, John. Until the end of my days," I rasped.

We sat there a long time. I held onto his jumper until my strength faded and I fell asleep.


	8. We Have To Leave Soon

**Author's Note: **Memmehoynemeh.

* * *

><p>The next morning, I woke up on the sofa. I didn't see John and my mind started racing.<p>

"John?"

He didn't answer so I got up and rushed toward the kitchen.

"John!"

"Sherlock?" he asked, coming from the bedroom. He watched me as I stood there panting. "You okay?"

"I just- I didn't know where you went," I said, trying to sound normal.

He looked me over and nodded. "Oh, right. Well, you might want to get ready. We have to leave soon."

I went slowly to my room, keeping my gaze down and changed clothes. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to send him away.

_I still can't believe he ever enlisted. He should have just stayed in London and been a doctor. A real doctor who didn't have to fight for his life every day. But he's so selfish that he didn't care about anyone who actually cares about him enough to miss him._

_He did it before you even met him._

_That doesn't make it okay. When we did meet, he kept it from me for at least a month. Then he told me and all of a sudden he has to go to Afghanistan? So he makes me fall in love with him in less than a month?_

_No, it took you less than a month to finally realize that you love him._

_I've loved him since that first night. God help me._

"Sherlock? You okay?" John asked softly, pushing the door open. I jumped as I was torn from my thoughts and held my shirt to my bare chest. "We've got to get going."

I must have been standing there thinking for at least twenty minutes.

"Yeah. Coming," I muttered and pulled my shirt on, then my jacket. I buttoned it up and turned to him. He stood in the doorway in his army green with that stupid grin on his face. Usually, it made me smile but this time I could tell it was fake. The sight of him made my heart turn to ice and I felt sick again.

"Ready?"

_Do I really look ready, John? Do I look like I want to send you away?_

"Yeah," I mumbled as I walked past him. "Shall we?"

I grabbed my coat and went down the stairs with him following closely behind. We climbed into a cab and started for the airport. It felt like a dream. My head hurt. Every breath burned. I felt each bump in the road shake my stomach and, though I had nothing in my stomach to lose, I felt nauseous. We said nothing.


	9. Goodbye, Sherlock

**Author's Note: **Yeah, that whole "every Friday" bullshit… I've given up. I'm too weak.

Joss Whedon once said, "Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke." So I tried my best to please him. I may have gone too far with that but I hope it's acceptable. And I only know about this quote from Neil Gaiman's twitter so don't try to make conversation with me about this Joss Whedon.

* * *

><p>This was it. Only a few moments before he would have to get on that damn plane. I wanted to sit with him as long as I could but obviously I wasn't allowed in the terminal. I was close by his side as we came to security. He stopped and turned to me as I swallowed nervously.<p>

"Now promise me you won't start smoking again."

"I promise."

"And you're going to have to eat sometimes."

"I know."

"And don't take any pills from cabbies just because you're bored."

"I won't."

"And be nice to people."

The corner of my mouth turned up for half a second.

"At least try to be nice." He paused a moment, biting his lip. "At least pretend that you're trying to be nice."

"Why should I?"

"Because no one likes it when you're rude."

"What about Anderson?"

"Him especially."

I shook my head. "I don't think you understand what you're asking of me."

"Hey," he whispered and touched my arm lightly. "I know you can be nice."

I smiled then. A real smile. Maybe behind it was the most pain I've ever felt in all my life but it was genuine.

And I loved that about John. He always made me smile.

"I'll try my best," I whispered back.

He wrapped his arms around my neck and I held his waist, pulling his body against mine. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to hold myself together.

I did, really. Not one tear.

And I can hear you yelling "bullshit!" at your screen.

For the first… Maybe 90 seconds. Then I lost it. I held him and cried into his shoulder and I didn't care what anyone thought. For once in my life. Mycroft could check his surveillance cameras all he wanted. He could laugh at me while he stuffed his face with cake and made googly eyes at his umbrella. He's named it Susan.

John pulled away and wiped one of my tears with his thumb. He put his forehead against mine and started talking quietly. I still don't know what he said. I was just enjoying his voice while I could.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?" My voice was so small, even I was surprised to hear it come out.

"I'll be okay. I'll be home before you know it."

I nodded and stared at him, trying to memorize his face. He cupped my cheeks and looked into my eyes.

"I promise."

He pulled me even closer and pressed his lips to mine so softly that I questioned if they were ever there.

"Goodbye, Sherlock. I love you," he muttered with tears in his eyes and a sad smile. He slowly backed away, grabbed his bag and walked toward a blonde woman in a blue suit.

I watched him as long as I could while he went through. I only got small glimpses of his hair or the side of his face. He didn't even look back. Not a single glance. As he put his boots back on, I saw his grey-blonde hair and his small fingers through all the people between us. Then he stood up and disappeared.

I stood there, staring at the spot where I last saw him for God knows how long. My whole body felt numb. I felt nothing.

_I'm yours… Forever._


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **Yeah. I'm evil. Suck on that. The whole chapter right there. *runs away* Also, school blocked . I hate them so much. I will burn them.

* * *

><p>I wept. Believe it or not, Sherlock Holmes has feelings.<p> 


	11. I Think Of You Often

**Author's Note: **And thus began John's letters… Prepare yourself.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Sherl. I know it's been a month already and I'm sorry I haven't written. I've just gotten settled over here and it's still chaos. There's not much to tell that you would want to hear but I know you would appreciate a letter so… Here we are.<p>

Anyway, I hope you're doing better than I am.

Sometimes I wonder if you ever think of me. I think of you often… All the time, actually.

Sorry this letter isn't very long but we've not done much yet. I mean we went out the other day for not even an hour and nothing interesting happened. Nothing you would care about anyway. Don't do drugs and keep eating. You need it. The food, I mean.

I love you.

John."


	12. Christmas

**Author's Note:** sxdcftyvhbujn jkm mlkknbhgv dxrfc gvhgbjnkm knjbhvgcdxrs. My feelings exactly.

* * *

><p>"We've gone out every day for the past two weeks. We usually come back at night but it was the third day in a row yesterday and it's never dull.<p>

I woke up around 4 am and we headed off this morning. It rained last night and the ground was wet, frozen over in some places, and the sky was gray. And it was freezing out. Naturally. We trudged through the mud and suddenly the guy up front stopped.

"It's Christmas," he said in a way that made it sound like a secret. Or maybe a realization. Or both.

Christmas. It seemed like just another awful day to everyone until it was given a title. Out here there's not much importance in holidays like this. I know you would agree. I can almost hear your voice. "There's none whatsoever, John. Christmas is boring."

I've lived through dozens of lonely Christmases but this one was the worst. I've only had one with you and I wish I could be there now. I wish I could see that miserable tree you picked out. I wish I could have decorated it with you. I wish we could sit there on the sofa and just stare at it while we drink hot chocolate.

I don't want to be a thousand miles away. I don't want the nights to be so cold. I don't want to have to murder people, no matter how guilty they are, to survive. I also don't want this particular life.

I love you and I miss you.

John."


	13. Someone

**Author's Note: **Yes, Kelsey, you are the main reason for this chapter. If anyone understands the T.S. Eliot reference, you are fantastic. I think this is my favorite chapter so far…

* * *

><p>"<em>We all need someone. Someone. Even if you're lost in the world you just need one person. To keep you right."<em>

His voice echoed in the deafening silence of this flat. I needed something. Some type of noise or distraction. The fire may not have been the best idea but it was better than the cocaine.

I liked having a fire especially when it was cold out. Who didn't? I stared at the flames as they reached up to lick nothing but the air. They flickered, giving an uneven light to the room. A light that was always changing. So much different than everything else in the world.

The fire cracked and a piece of wood moved slightly.

This life was constant.

The cases never changing all that much.

The daily routine, consistent.

The drugs had that same effect every single time. That same guilt.

What I felt for John was always steady in a way that was oddly irregular. It was always there but some days it seemed like it had reached it's peak. Like when I got a new letter from him my heart jumped. Then I realize how much I miss him. It never varied in degree. Only in awareness.

It's always there. The pain. The sorrow. It's usually just a whimper. And suddenly it would become a bang.


	14. We Were Married

**Author's Note: **I feel generous this week...

* * *

><p>"The other night I had a dream about you. It's extremely embarrassing for me, in all honesty but I feel that you should know. Sometimes I can't believe the shit I do for you.<p>

We were married. I mean I dreamt of our wedding. You were so nervous and you couldn't sit still. You kept rubbing your hands together and shifting on your feet while your breaths just got heavier. Your face was so red.

I thought it was cute. Yes, Sherlock Holmes is "cute".

So we said our vows, promising each other we would never leave. That we would care for each other until the end of our days. That we would always love each other and keep this fire burning between us. Most of the time I have dreams about doing saying things I normally wouldn't do or mean, but this is something I could do. If you would have me.

Then I felt your whole body shake as you kissed me.

And no, I wasn't wearing a dress.

So that's the first part at least. I'll tell you the second part sometime but I think I've humiliated myself enough for the month. At least.

Nothing to tell of life over here except that there's a lot of shooting and a lot of unnecessary deaths. Give the second page to Hudders. I thought she might like to hear from me.

I still love you.

John."


	15. I'm Not A Hero

**Author's Note: **I have nothing to say.

* * *

><p>"So I did something stupid today. Very stupid. There was a guy who was laying out in the field and I sort of… I ran out to get him. I don't know why but I felt like I had to. I didn't even know him but I just couldn't leave him to die. So I picked him up and brought him back. He was shot in his arm but his leg had been blown off. I brought him back and they said if he had been out much longer, he would have died. It's nice to be able to help him and all, but all the guys are acting like I'm a hero for running out there. I don't regret it but to be honest, I don't think I would take a chance like that again.<p>

I'm not a hero, Sherlock. And I hate this impulsive… whatever it was. It got me a title I don't deserve. They all say I'm brave and I'm not. I'm not a hero. And I'm not brave. I'm scared as hell.

John."

John is a hero. Whether he likes it or not. He was saving lives before he went to war. I simply wrote back, "Courage is not the absence of fear, John. But rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."


	16. First Step

**Author's Note: ***evil giggles*

* * *

><p>"There's a lot of fighting here. "Obviously, John. You're in a war." But in all seriousness I think I might be in love with it. The blood pumping through your veins and the risk of it all. It's like when I'm with you on a case except there's not much danger back in London. Not when you're there because you would always tell me, and here I quote you directly, "will never let anything bad happen." Here in Afghanistan I don't have you to keep me safe. I have the rest of the guys but they wouldn't do the kind of things you would to save my life. That's one thing I don't like. I don't like all these men dying.<p>

In other news, the second part of that dream… It was a few years after the wedding and we were sitting in the middle of the living room floor with a few feet between us. You had the biggest smile and I swore I saw a tear in your eye. As if this would be the proudest moment of your life. Which it may have been.

So we sat there and shouted encouragements and my heart was in my throat and then our son took his first step.

He looked just like you. With that thick, curly hair and those bright blue-green eyes…"

I noticed in some spots his writing was smeared. As if he was crying while he wrote it. I didn't finish reading it. I couldn't. So I stood up with a sigh and went to his chair, curling up as tightly as I possibly could, and held the letter against my chest.


	17. You Really Do Love Him

**Author's Note: **Mycroft… *twitch* He may be a bit out of character but... Yay for a longer chapter than usual

* * *

><p>"I still don't understand why you're here."<p>

"Oh, brother mine, I thought you were more intelligent than that."

I glared at him over my tea cup and took a small sip.

"I worry about you, Sherlock. I always worry."

"You worry?" I nodded and set my cup down, folding my hands in front of me. "What is there to worry about?"

He nodded toward the stack of letters on the desk behind me.

"John."

"What about him?"

"You miss him."

"Of course I do but I'm not-"

"Sherlock, I'm not stupid," he said firmly, cutting me off. "I know how much you care about him."

_You have no idea._

"I do," he said a he narrowed his eyes and shifted in John's chair. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that you… love him."

He wasn't trying to sound bitter but those last two words escaped his lips as if it were painful to even think about his younger brother caring about anything other than the work. As if it left a sour taste in his mouth.

I bit the inside of my cheek and growled at him. "Get out."

"Oh, don't be difficult." He rolled his eyes and huffed as he spoke. "You've been so irritable as of late."

"He kept me right," I mumbled.

"_He_ gave you life. As soon as he left it's like you just gave up."

I stayed silent and looked down at my tea.

"Lestrade said you haven't called in a while."

"You talk to Lestrade often?"

"Sherlock, can we stay focused?"

"You're defensive. Why? Because you… love him?" I asked in that same tone he used.

His breathing became heavier. Angry. "Sherlock," he said through his teeth.

"Why can't he call me?"

"Don't act like I'm oblivious! _You_ don't answer his calls either!"

"Maybe I just don't want a case right now," I said with a shrug. "Maybe I want a break."

"I know you, Sherlock. Better than anyone else. Even John."

I stood up and stepped towards him. "Get out of my flat. Now."

"Sherlock, you don't scare me," he said casually as he played with his umbrella. Susan. The thought of what he did with that thing when he was alone made me shudder. What would Gavin think? Gavin? Grant? No, it's Graham… Isn't it?

"You aren't angry with me just because you hate me."

_I do._

"You don't. You're upset because you care about John and you're defensive because you're about to break."

He stood up and watched me, our faces inches away.

"I know you. And I know this hurts you."

"'Caring is not an advantage.'"

He smiled faintly. "So you _do_ listen to me occasionally."

I bit my cheek again and clenched my fists at my side.

"That doesn't mean you _don't_ care. Sometimes you just can't help it. As much as you would like to deny it, you are human. You have emotions, Sherlock. Caring is inevitable. Sorry. I was simply warning you of emotions that could result in your demise. I care about you and I know one day it may come back and slap my in the face."

I shook my head as my eyes started to burn and my throat closed up.

Mycroft's face softened as he studied me. It was highly unnerving.

"My God…"

"What?" I barked.

"You really do love him, don't you?"

"No."

"You do. How did I never notice? I've seen the way you look at him. I've seen what you do for him. Everything is for him."

I turned away and closed my eyes. The room was spinning and my head hurt. It wasn't just a headache and it's not what I imagined as a migraine. I didn't even know anymore. All I knew was that it hurt.

"I just was never looking for it."

I made my way to the sofa, laid down, and curled up in a ball.

"Mycroft?"

He came over and kneeled next to me. "Yes?"

"Why does it hurt so much?"

"Because it is real. Because you love him and you're afraid."

"Afraid?" I asked in almost a whimper.

He nodded. "Of losing him."

I looked at him skeptically. "How do you know that?"

"I've watched you grow up and when you didn't know what to do, you turned to drugs."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Look… I don't know what this is like but… I found cocaine in your room. Every time, I get scared. I'm afraid that you'll ruin yourself or have too much at once."

"Don't blab. Get to the point."

"You're my brother and, whether you, or I for that matter, like it or not, I love you."

We sat in silence a moment. This whole scene was unsettling. The way he was looking at me and those things he said made me almost sick.

"Forget that I never said that," he muttered.

"Not a chance."

"Okay," he said and nodded. He cleared his throat and stood up. "I should be going." I watched as he twirled his umbrella, went out the door and down the stairs.


	18. Todd Daniels

**Author's Note: **I tried to think of an Englandy army name but I kept thinking Todd Daniels which is from A Finger Slip by Pawtal, who is absolutely brilliant. Everyone read A Finger Slip. Do it if you haven't. I cried. But then I cry during the first 5 minutes of A Study In Pink so…

* * *

><p>"It's not easy over here. The guy that sleeps in the bed next to me is pretty nice. Nicer than I thought he was. Todd Daniels. He isn't very talkative and he kind of reminds me of you. Of course he could never be as bright, as brilliant, or as mad as you are. He's funny though, when he does talk. He's my best friend…"<p>

_Best friend…?_

"When it's getting kind of rough over here, I think of that night down at the park and close my eyes and see your smile. That's when I realize how much I miss you. Don't worry but I won't be able to write for a while.

I love you, still.

John."


	19. Cocaine

**Author's Note: **Thanksgiving. Only in America there's holiday where people spend a day being thankful for what they already have and 2 hours later are shoving each other for more stuff they don't really need. Good job, America. Anyway, I'm really excited for chapter 20 so... Yeah. Prepare yourself by listening to Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. (There's one with Ed Sheeran. That's the best so listen to that one.) /watch?v=tG5_CqKULc It won't put the whole link but yeah it's on youtube so just add that after the com.

* * *

><p>It hurts. Everything hurts. My whole body. I need an escape. I need drugs. A case won't do. Not even a triple homicide. I need Victor.<p>

"Sherlock…?"

"Hi," I mumbled into the phone.

"It's been a long time. Do you need something?"

"Speedball."

"Sherlock… That's a pretty heavy drug. I'm not sure I can get you any for at least a week."

"Cocaine?"

"How much?"

"As much as you've got."

He sighed. "You haven't called in at least six months. Why now?"

"I'm offering you money. Since when do you care about anything else?"

"Do you not remember anything of me besides the drugs?"

"I remember too much."

"Then answer my question."

"It's John. He's in Afghanistan and I can't take it."

"You miss him?" he asked quietly.

I stared out the window and bit at my lip.

"Sherlock?"

"Please come over. Now," I said simply and hung up.


	20. Chasing Cars

**Author's Note: **For Sophie (who actually wrote half the chapter). I love you. Still more than anything.

I won't tell you how many tears I shed while writing this chapter because I lost count. I hope it causes you as much pain as it has caused me. Because I'm evil like that.

* * *

><p>The next day is always worse. I knew I had just gotten myself hooked again after all those months of staying clean. All of those awful days of withdrawal. The only reason I got through it was because John helped me. Now I'm stuck for a year and a half unless I quit on my own. It's not like I'm addicted, I <em>can<em> control it if I want to. If I try hard enough.

I found myself over the toilet most of the day.

I can't even remember most of the night but I don't think I would want to anyway.

I don't even know what drug he gave me. Maybe that explains the nausea and maybe it doesn't. Who knows?

_John, __I'm a terrible person, and I'm even worse at relationships, or whatever this is. But I really need to talk to you. No matter what, I care about you deeply and I miss you and you made my whole life brighter. You really did. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I miss you and I cry when I think about you because nobody else was like you. You made me so happy but sometimes I have really bad nights and I want to bleed and die but most of all I want you and I want to kiss you and hold you and know what you smell like and feel you. I need you so badly. I don't need just anyone, I need you. _

_I need you here to help me. This hurts so much and I hate not knowing what to do. I need you to help me. Be my guide. Hold me until the sun comes up and help me escape my thoughts for a while. I need you to carry me to bed and bring a bucket in case I get sick again. I need you to sit on the edge of my… our bed and push my hair from my face to put ice there. I need you to watch over me. I need you to slap me when I'm feeling better and then grab my face and kiss me._

_Maybe that's too much to ask. All I need is for you to sit with me. That's all._

_How does that song go? "If I lay here… If I just lay here would you lie with me and just forget the world?"_

_And I'd whisper, "I won't do it again, John. I promise."_

_To which you would reply with a roll of you eyes and a sigh, "Shut up. Just rest."_

_You at least pretended you cared, which is more than anyone else can say. Thank you._

I gagged and gripped the toilet seat. This was by far the worst thing I've ever gone through.

"Mrs. Hudson!"


	21. Still The Addict

**Author's Note:** I have been having so much trouble in writing the chapters that come after this. It just feels kind of weak and thrown together and I have these ideas but I can't organize them into chapters. So I may need some time to work on it (which I usually do at 1 am) so expect more of a delay. But I _will not _give you guys shit chapters. Continue with the reviews. I like that stuff.

* * *

><p>I couldn't stop. It's been a month and a half since I called Victor and I haven't heard from John in a while. The last thing I got was all "Todd Daniels" and nothing else. I couldn't take this. The way John wrote his name with such care while the rest of the letter was rushed at best.<p>

So I suppose those dreams and everything he wrote before was just a lie or simply don't matter anymore. It's like he's already forgotten me.

This is why I keep doing drugs. Because of the pain.

I know I've said I can control it but the truth is, I can't. I'm an addict. I've given up everything I have to get drugs. I haven't eaten in a week. I haven't left this flat in over a month. I've taken all of Mycroft's money that I can without raising suspicion. I stole something from a shop on the corner the other day and sold it on the street for more than what I paid.

I've watched that gun too long. I've lusted over that knife too long.

The only thing keeping me somewhat sane is the thought of meeting him again. The thought of holding him while he sleeps. The thought of feeling his lips on mine. And I'm still not sure I'll ever be able to.


	22. I Dream Of You Every Night

**Author's Note: **References to my other fics? I think yes. Also the next chapters are coming along B-E-A-UTIFULLY so hallelujah for that small flicker of creative genius I got when I should have been doing homework or sleeping. But who needs that anyway? Fanfiction is all you need.

Also, because I have no one else to rant to, THE IMITATION GAME! I was so excited for this movie and it's not even being shown in theaters around here. "ONLY IN SELECT THEATERS" it said! Ex-fucking-scuse you but I need that movie or I will walk to a new country. Sorry I needed to get that out. Now please enjoy chapter twenty-fucking-two.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until the end of March that I got another letter from John. Months of silence that tore me apart. That reduced me to a man who cared for nothing but drugs. Yet somehow I couldn't blame John. I was the one who broke a promise. I was the one who had given in to the pain and emotions that I wasn't even supposed to have.<p>

"Hey, Sherlock. Sorry it's been a while. I haven't had time to sit down and write and I really am sorry. I miss you more than you could imagine. Todd said the funniest thing the other day. It reminded me of you, though. That was hard. It was almost like I had forgotten. Don't get me wrong, I would never forget you. Never. I just had been so distracted and this pain had been numbed because I was focused on so many other things. Anyway, I dream of you every night. It's always those dreams you wake up from and forget all the details. But you know it was a good dream. A dream that was free of all the pain you felt as you fell asleep and the pain that is almost guaranteed when you wake up. And you try to fall asleep again to continue that dream… But it never works. You fall asleep to something new. And it doesn't even numb the pain. Not even for a few seconds.

Sorry. That wasn't very… uplifting. I hope you're doing well.

I love you,

John."

_You hope I'm doing well? Funny, John. Because I'm not okay. I'm an addict and I need you to help me. I need you to help me stop._


	23. Rehab

**Author's Note: **Mycroft. Again. You know you've been in a fandom for a long time when you start to become sexually attracted to Myc. I am (only a little bit. On some days) and it's not okay. I AM SO IN LOVE WITH MARTIN FREEMAN in case you didn't know. I highly recommend _Swinging with the Finkels._ The endings is the best I just…

* * *

><p>"Rehab?! You can't make me go to rehab!"<p>

"I can. And I will," Mycroft said in that calm voice he could always keep in tough situations. I envied it.

"I don't need rehab," I said defiantly as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Sherlock, you're addicted. Again. You can't quit on your own."

"Maybe I don't want to quit."

There was a pause and then, "Does John know?"

I bit the inside of my cheek and looked away.

"He doesn't have to. If you get help and quit before he gets back, I won't say a word."

_Yeah, right._

"I promise."

"You've promised that before."

"Because you wouldn't stop!"

I stood up and leaned over my brother. "Because I couldn't!"

"You didn't try very hard."

I sighed and turned away, walking swiftly toward the window.

"Maybe if you would call Greg…"

"Greg?" I narrowed my eyes as I thought.

"Lestrade?"

"Oh… What about him?"

"Call him. Start on a case," Mycroft said as he shrugged.

"Why? It's not like I could focus anyway."

"We can start with something easy."

"Easy? Mycroft, I take cases for the challenge. The challenge is what distracts me."

"Fine. Have it your way. I'll call and see what he has." He stood up, grabbed his umbrella and headed to the door.

"Sherlock?"

"What?"

"I'm going to start testing you."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "You don't need to."

"I do. I will," he said as he turned to me again. "I'll be here tomorrow at eleven and we'll discuss a case."

"I won't do a case for you."

He gave me a bitter smile. "For Lestrade you will."

"If it's interesting."

He nodded. "I will find you something. If it will stop you doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Destroying yourself."


	24. Eventide

**Author's Note: **Sobbing at the Memories of Middle-Earth video from Warner Bros. Pictures. NOT READY!

* * *

><p>"I don't want to do this anymore, Sherl. I can't.<p>

A little boy came up to our base this morning. He was covered in semtex. It broke my heart to see him. There wasn't anything we could do except… you know. We couldn't let him get any closer so we were ordered to shoot. It would only have taken one bullet to stop him, but no one wanted to live with that guilt.

We all closed our eyes and shot at once so no one knew who killed him.

That was by far the worst thing I've seen. Probably the worst I _will_ see.

I wanted nothing more than to let him live. To find a way to get him out of those explosives and away from the people who sent him here.

I never shot my gun.

John."


	25. A Failed Experiment

**Author's Note: **If you'd like to see anything happen in this fic, let me know. ;) Enjoy the feels…

* * *

><p><span><em>Flashback <em>

"_Sherlock, why do you have such terrible grades?" his mother asked from across the table._

"_I don't know," Sherlock mumbled, looking down at his feet._

"_You don't know? Look, we can get you help with learning the material if you need it."_

"_Mum, I don't need help."_

"_What do you need, then?"_

_Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't need anything."_

"_Are you even paying attention in class?"_

"_Yes, I am paying attention."_

"_Is there any way I can help you?"_

"_No," he said as he shook his head. "I really would like to go upstairs now, though." His voice wavered and he swallowed hard, hoping his mother didn't notice._

_She nodded and leaned back in her chair. "Sure."_

_Before she had even finished answering, Sherlock was out of his seat and headed for his room. He locked himself in and curled up in his bed._

Everyone hates you, Sherlock. You're just a freak.

_He pulled up his sleeve and looked at his wrists. They looked awful. Both his arms were covered in scars, some of which were from the day before. He sighed as he rolled his sleeves back down._

It's their fault I do this to myself. It's their fault.

No. It's your fault. You're the addict.

"_Faggot!"_

"_He thinks he's clever. He's just a freak."_

"_Idiot…"_

"_Who were you texting? It's not like you have friends."_

_He took a deep breath and heard Mycroft's voice. "Sherlock, you've always been so stupid."_

_And his father's. "You can't do anything right!"_

_Then a boy in his chemistry class he's never even met, "No one even wants you around."_

Why don't you just kill yourself? It's a lot less effort. No one wants you. You can't even pass your classes. You will amount to nothing. You're a freak. A failed experiment.

"_Mummy thought of having an abortion. If she knew how you would turn out, maybe she would have."_


	26. Letters

**Author's Note: **That chapter title. Ew. But I have nothing else.

* * *

><p>Another letter. "Todd Daniels."<p>

...

"Todd Daniels." Again.

…

"Todd…"

…

"Daniels…"

…

And another. I hate this. I didn't reply because I had nothing to say. As soon as that pen hit paper, I knew I would just go off on him. I didn't read most of the letters.


	27. Mrs Wagner

**Author's Note: **One of my teachers actually did do this. When I said I want your opinions and stuff… I meant it. I want to know what you want to see happen.

* * *

><p><strong>An excerpt from the journal of Stefanie Wagner. High School Personal Finance teacher:<strong>

_Today was the first day of class and, as always, I asked the students to write their names on a notecard. Then they wrote their parent's phone numbers, and an interesting fact about them. I know how awkward it can be if a student is put into a group with someone they don't like or maybe an ex-girlfriend or boyfriend so I said if anyone wanted to avoid being put into a group with another person to put that person's name at the bottom._

_As I was going through the notecards, I noticed that 90% of them had the name "Sherlock Holmes" at the bottom. I looked through them during class and when I looked up to find Sherlock, I knew it was him because there wasn't a single person within five feet of his desk. _

_I had been warned about this boy by other teachers but he didn't look like the kind of kid who would try to make trouble. He looked like he needed help. He needed a friend. Someone he could talk to._

_I kept going through the cards and then I found his. It had his name, the phone number, and there at the bottom he had listed every single person in the class._


	28. I Am In Love With You

**Author's Note: **I'm tired... Enjoy if you can. The next chapter though *dies*

* * *

><p>John, if you don't love me anymore, just tell me. I can't sit here and read these letters when all you talk about is Todd Daniels. It hurts too much. Obviously he makes you happy. The way you write his name with such care is proof enough. I can't spend the next year waiting for a man who doesn't even care about me. Why can't you just tell me? Why can't you admit that you care for him more than me? Are you in denial? You can't just stick around with me if you aren't happy because I love you and there is nothing more important to me than your happiness. I wish you could see that. So stay with Todd Daniels if you want. This distance is just too much. You can't lead me on like this, John. I wish you could just be honest.<p>

Sherlock.

"You think I love Todd? He's my friend. I love you and I can't believe you would doubt that. Yes, the distance is hard. Just because I can't hold you every night doesn't mean I don't want to. I'm yours and I don't want to be anyone else's. That night when I told you what that meant… That meant nothing to you? I can't change your mind but if it helps I'll say it again. I am in love with you! I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I wish _you_ could see _that_.

John."


	29. Are You Free Tonight?

**Author's Note: **Yeah, sorry it's been so long but I've been rather busy and I've had some more writer's block. Hopefully that will blow over quickly. Also, go watch Fargo (Tv series) because… shit. Enjoy ~

* * *

><p><em><span>Flashback<span>_

"_John Watson," he said as he stuck out his hand with a smile._

_Sherlock took it and looked him over. "Sherlock Holmes."_

_John giggled as his hand fell to his side again. "That's not a very common name."_

_Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I've heard it all before. Can we just get started on this project? I'd like to have it finished by Friday."_

"_But…" John tilted his head as he spoke. "It's not due for two months."_

"_I want it finished as quickly as possible so I can focus on other things."_

_John nodded. "Do you have any ideas?"_

"_Seven. So far."_

_Sherlock noticed the surprise in John's face._

"_Something wrong?" he asked._

"_No," John said as he shook his head. "I just didn't think you would have any. At least not seven."_

"_Some of them would be pretty difficult for you to follow."_

"_If you'll work with me, I'm sure I could learn enough to be of some help. Maybe Mr. Turner would like that. If he's impressed we might get a better grade."_

_Sherlock nodded as he bit his lip. "Are you free tonight?"_

_John looked at him and scoffed. "You're already asking me out?"_

"_No!" Sherlock said loud enough for the rest of the class to turn and look at him. "I just… I wanted to get started as soon as we can."_

_John laughed softly and hit Sherlock's arm. "Hey. I was only kidding."_

_Sherlock smiled nervously as he nodded. "Right. So… I know a nice place on Northumberland Street. We could meet here and walk if you'd like."_

"_Sure. I'll see you then," John smiled as the bell rang. He grabbed his bags and headed to his next class. He looked at the floor as he walked, grinning like an idiot while he thought about Sherlock Holmes._


	30. I Broke A Promise

**Author's Note:** Sorry it's been a while. My life has been complete shit recently. Loads of suicide thoughts. Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

><p>I wish I could believe you. This is actually happening and it hurts. It hurts, John. Hell, it hurts so much that I broke a promise. Our promise. Mycroft wants me in rehab now. I won't let him put me there. I know I should but I don't want to stop. Rehab won't help unless <em>I<em> want to stop. And I don't. Not now. It's just not worth it. You weren't even supposed to know.

Sherlock.

"It's not worth it? Am I not worth it? Do you have any idea how much it kills me that you're doing this? If you don't go to rehab, I swear to God, I will fucking walk to that flat and drag you there. And you want to know why? Because I actually fucking care about you! I would go out there and get myself shot just so I could come home and help you! And I will if you need me to. I would do anything for you.

John."


	31. I Never Thought You Were A Freak

_Flashback_

_John sat across the table from Sherlock at Angelo's one night. He was particularly nervous as he had finally accepted the fact that he did love Sherlock. He knew Sherlock would find out some day soon. Even John had noticed his own heart rate picking up whenever their fingers grazed together or when he felt Sherlock deducing him. He had tried his best to hide anything he could but in the end it would be useless. _

_He smiled at Angelo as he came to take their order and put a candle on the table as he had the first night Sherlock had brought him._

That stupid project… _John shook his head at the thought._

_After the usual "you need to eat" "but I'm not hungry" "don't make me force you" conversation, Sherlock and John had both ordered and, as Sherlock stared out the window, John tried to make conversation. It wasn't really his area, but he was better than Sherlock._

"_Why is it that no one likes you?"_

"_You _are _joking, right?"_

"_No."_

_Sherlock sighed. "You've met me, John."_

"_Fortunately."_

"_Because I'm difficult to be around. I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. People just don't like me. I'm a freak, John."_

"_I never thought you were a freak."_

"_And why is that?"_

_John shrugged and looked at his shoes as he played with his sleeves. "I don't know. You're interesting… Amazing."_

"_That's not what people usually say."_

"_What do people usually say?"_

"_Piss off."_

_This, of course, made John giggle and a smile tugged at the corner of Sherlock's mouth. Angelo came back with their food which Sherlock hardly touched. They didn't say anything while they ate._

_Once they finished and Sherlock had paid, they sat and talked about nothing until they were kicked out._

"_Sorry, boys. We have to close sometime," Angelo said with a wink._

_So they went outside and, though Sherlock didn't like the idea, they walked home in the rain._

"_Why didn't you push me away like everyone else?" Sherlock asked._

"_I already told you."_

"_I must have forgotten."_

"_Sherlock, you're not stupid."_

_Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he looked down. "Where is this coming from?"_

_John stopped on the sidewalk and started to feel warm. As if it were the middle of summer. Sherlock took a few more steps before turning around._

"_John?"_

"_Are you really that oblivious?" John whispered. "Is it not obvious?"_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_Surely you've noticed," he said as his heart rate picked up while he stared at a now soaked Sherlock. The rain had picked up a bit and Sherlock stepped forward._

"_Noticed what?"_

"_I… Every time you look at me I get nervous and when you touch me by accident, like when I hand you a cup of tea and our fingers touch for a second, my heart beats faster. And I know you've caught me watching you and it's embarrassing. Just going to dinner tonight gave me a few heart attacks. You didn't even do anything. When you asked me to move into that flat I just… I felt like I was going to explode. You can't tell me you haven't noticed that."_

"_You're right. I can't. I thought nothing of it, though. Well, not much. What point are you trying to make?"_

_John swallowed hard and whispered, "I love you, Sherlock."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean…" He sighed, trying to figure out what to say. "I just mean that I love you. I don't know," he shrugged. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"_

"_I think so but you can't," Sherlock said as he shook his head._

_He nodded. "I do. I don't expect you to say it back or anything. I'd really like to get home and get dry, though."_

"_Okay," Sherlock said as he turned around and headed back to the flat._

_John stayed behind and buried his face in his hands._

Dear God, what have I done?


	32. You Left Me

**Author's Note: **Loads of chapters today because I'm excited to show you things… Like chapter 36, 37, and 38. Like woah. And these are short so yeah.

* * *

><p>I don't need your help, John. I don't need you. I need the drugs, okay? I can't just quit and I <em>won't<em> go to rehab. I need them. Murders aren't enough anymore and neither are you. You left me.

Sherlock.


	33. Stay

That may have been the biggest lies I've ever told. I was probably high when I wrote the first letter because I woke up one morning and I saw it on my desk, though I had no recollection of writing it. Mycroft tested me later that day and I sent it out of anger. God, I wish I hadn't. I did need him and he should know that. But he hadn't written in a long time. Not since that last letter when he said he would come home to me.

I would do anything for him but I couldn't just sit around waiting for him to come back and reject me. I want him to stay.

Mycroft had made me go to rehab. That only worked for a week before he gave up. Wise choice.

I needed the drugs. I needed Victor Trevor.

I needed more money if I wanted to keep this up. Or I had to do Victor some kind of favor. He hasn't told me what that is yet, but I won't do just anything. I'll find someone else to sell to me. Though I don't know if that will be easy.

I'm surprised Mycroft hasn't gotten him arrested yet. Soon enough.


	34. I'll Wait For You

**Author's Note: ***flails*

* * *

><p><em><span>Flashback<span>_

By _the time John had gotten home, he was completely soaked and freezing cold. Sherlock was on the sofa so John went to have a hot shower._

Why the hell did I do that? Of course he doesn't love you back. He can't love anyone.

_He had all sorts of thoughts but they all came back to "He can't love." When he got out, he pulled on his pants and went to sit in his chair. There was an awkward silence until John broke it._

"_I don't suppose you can just… forget what I said?"_

"_Not easily," Sherlock sighed as he reached to fiddle with his nicotine patches._

"_I won't try to change your mind."_

"_I know… Thank you." _

_John looked out the window for a few more minutes and then stood up._

"_Where are you going?"_

"_To bed," John whispered. "I'm tired."_

"_Oh…" Sherlock said. "Goodnight, then."_

_Yeah," John nodded and went up to his room. He flopped onto his bed with a sigh and fell asleep, face down, hating himself._

I love you, Sherlock. I'll wait for you. However long it takes, I'll wait.


	35. Hearts On Fire

**Author's Note: **I'd like to apologize in advance. No I wouldn't. I like to believe that a part of Moffat lives inside me.I don't have any idea what happens in a situation like this in England so just roll with it. This song I'm so /watch?v=EreZNkWzBAw (Like last time it's after the .com) Ignore the Wild Mountain Thyme in the beginning, though I do like it, it isn't relevant. REVIEW!

One more thing. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHERLOCK HOLMES! (and thank you Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) That will be all. Dismissed.

* * *

><p>I hate him. I hate him for all the hurt that he's caused me. I'm not supposed to have feelings like this. I'm not supposed to want drugs to numb the pain. They were just supposed to cure the boredom. I'm not supposed to lay awake at night and cry. I'm not supposed to look at that gun. I'm not supposed to watch the knife. I'm not supposed to feel.<p>

I sat down in my chair with a sigh. It was too much. I couldn't handle this anymore. I don't hate John. I love him. God, I love him more than anything. I had to write to him and apologize. I couldn't let this go on even if it meant that he would decide he didn't want to see me again. He probably would never want to anyway.

I didn't even know how to start. I bit my lip and tapped the pen on my lap. I couldn't think. Maybe that's what I get for taking drugs and not eating for four days. Mrs. Hudson should be up to yell at me soon.

It was noon by the time I had tried to write at least ten times. All of those had ended up in the fire.

The fire…

"_We all need someone. Someone. Even if you're lost in the world you just need one person. To keep you right."_

Yes, John. We do. And I had my someone two years ago but that got screwed to hell because I'm an awful person who can't see past my desire to forget the world. I satisfy my needs before anyone else. In the beginning it was different. In the beginning I put John first but I seem to have forgotten how. Now I saw drugs as more important. They were an escape from reality. One that John could usually provide.

There was a knock on the front door and I let out a deep sigh.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

She didn't answer me or the door. Probably out shopping.

I groaned and threw my pen and paper on my desk next to the stack of John's letters before I went down the stairs.

I opened the door and my heart stopped. It felt like it was on fire. My whole chest was on fire. Two men in uniforms stood in front of me with a flag and an envelope.

They didn't say anything. They didn't have to. The younger one muttered an apology as he looked down at his feet as if it were his fault.

I left the flag on the stairs for Mrs. Hudson and took the envelope upstairs.

Inside, there were two more envelopes. One was about John and what happened. The whole "he fought bravely" speech. Not of much interest to me.

The other was from John. I tore it open and took a breath and started reading.


	36. The Last Thing I'll Ask Of You

**Author's Note: **Yeah this scene is based on a chapter of Electric Pink Hand Grenade which is probably better but I did try my best…

So some of those lines. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is God like for real and I used some quotes of his and just changed a few words and I'll * them. *Kurt Hummel voice* I worship him.

I was going to wait a few days for this chapter but SOPHIE HUNTER IS PREGNANT! CONGRATULATIONS BEN! HE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE A FATHER THE BABY WILL BE BEAUTIFUL. I AM SOBBING FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, etc.

* * *

><p>I've had nightmares since the first week he left, the worst of which were when I was dealing with Mycroft and his great desire to send his little brother away to rehab. There was one in particular that was reoccurring. Sometimes I could even see it when I was awake.<p>

I don't know when exactly I fell asleep. I didn't mean to. I was just wandering the white floors of my mind palace and suddenly, I was in a field. It felt like a desert, but there were some trees around and, though it was extremely small and wouldn't be very useful, there was a river. I made my way to it and I heard a small whine. I looked around and saw a bundle of… something. It was tan with a bit of green. A man. I moved a bit closer and saw that there were at least six other men lying around. Most of them with blood on their face and wide eyes, still, faded and cold but full of terror.

I crouched next to the man who had made the noise that begged for help or death. It begged for anything but drawn out suffering. My fingers found the pulse in his neck. It slowed as he looked up at me with that same terror in the other men's eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can't help you."

Then it stopped.

I took a deep breath and looked over the other men to make sure John wasn't one of them.

He was nowhere in sight.

At least I knew he wasn't dead. Not here, at least. That was both comforting and petrifying.

I walked along the river towards a… forest? It was more like a collection of trees. Only ten or so in a group does not equal a forest. Thirty-three trees, or more, would be a forest. But it had shade and my black suit just adored the sun. So I went to sit under a tree and think this through a while. None of it made sense.

Then I heard a sound like the one before. A whimper.

I went over to the tree and my heart stopped. In that moment, I forgot all of my anger.

_You're not hurt, John? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!*_

John Watson sat up against a tree with his head hanging and his gun laying across his lap.

What I saw was something worse than any horror movie. Worse than anything my imagination could put together. I was supposed to protect him. I was supposed to keep him safe and I had failed.

In my work, I've seen a lot of things. I've seen murders and beheadings, mutations and "surgeries". But nothing could compare to this.

I tried to yell. I felt a scream clawing up my throat but nothing would come out. I stood there, the sun beating on the back of my neck but my body shook. I couldn't move. All I could do was stare.

He lifted his head up and begged me with his eyes to do something. His face was covered in blood. Everywhere except where his tears had run down his cheeks.

"Sherlock…"

I swallowed hard and forced my legs to move. I walked towards him and got on my knees in front of him.

As I looked him over, I noticed that part of his leg was missing and there was patch of blood on his shirt. I pulled it off and, once again, I was met by something worse than a nightmare. Gunshot wounds. He would be dead any moment.

"Sherlock," he whispered again. "Help me. It hurts."

"Oh, my God. It's my fault," I said breathlessly. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have let you come."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sherlock. It's not your fault. It was worth a wound- it was worth many wounds- to be with you as long as I was."*

"It wasn't long enough. We were supposed to grow old together."

"I wouldn't trade one moment of the time I had with you for anything. Not even if it meant my heart wouldn't be breaking now," he smiled sadly.

"John, you need a doctor," I said as my hands fluttered over him uselessly, trying to find some way to help.

He seemed to run out of breath from talking and coughed up a bit of blood which I wiped away with his shirt.

"It's too late for that."

I shook my head. "I won't let this happen. I won't let you die."

He reached up and touched my jaw so I would look at his face again.

"I need you to do something for me."

His free hand found mine and he gave me his gun.

"You can help."

He pressed the barrel to his jaw, pointing it up as he held onto my wrist.

"John… I-I can't," I said through sobs.

"It's the last thing I'll ask of you. The very last thing, Sherlock."

My finger tightened around the trigger, though everything in me screamed to throw it as far as I could and get help.

"John, don't-"

That's the thing about dreams. Neither choice is ever ideal. I didn't want to kill him. I'm not a murderer. But we both knew he would never make it back to a base alive. He wanted to end it so he didn't have to suffer. I didn't want him to suffer.

"I love you," he whispered with a small laugh while he cried. His hand had slipped down my arm and his grip was light.

"I love you, too, John. As truly as ever a man loved another," I whispered back.*

He nodded while his hand fell back to his side as if he had simply gotten too weak. "I'm yours… forever."

John and I stood together and I took his hand in my free one. It seemed the most natural thing that I should go out to him and, as I could often see in his body language, there was in him the instinct to turn to me for comfort and protection. So we stayed there hand-in-hand, two lovers sharing one last moment, and there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded us.* All the dark things that seemed to sink into our veins and envelope us.

He took his last breath and exhaled deeply. I felt him shaking, though whether it was in pain or fear, I could not tell.

I closed my eyes and the gunshot rang in my ears. I woke up screaming and gasping for breath. Sometimes dreams can scare you to death. Even when you none of it was real you still wake up unable to breathe. You still wake up and pull your legs against your chest and cry because you can't get the image out of your head. When you close your eyes, it still haunts you. And the sounds. The whimpers, the whispers, the gunshots and the screams. They all ring in your ears. The worst thing is that you know you'll never forget them.


	37. You've Never Failed Me

**Author's Note: **Last letter...

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry. I really am. I never meant to make you doubt. I do love you. I do and this hurts so much. I miss you more than anything and this silence has ripped me apart. I never wanted to leave you. When we first got that project in school, I <em>knew<em> I would never leave you. I thought you would never speak to me once that was over but when you asked me to look at that flat with you, I knew I wouldn't leave. When you asked me to look at that flat I realized how hard I had fallen for you. I was so alone and I owe you so much.

Honestly, I'm scared, Sherlock. I'm so scared of you running away and I'm scared of this war and I know I told you before that I loved it but that was a long time ago. The noise and the adrenaline rush. When I enlisted, I didn't have anyone to care if I never came back. I didn't have a home to miss or a reason to survive. Then I realized you were more than just some kid I had to do a school project with. And I'm terrified.

I'm so sorry for everything. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me before we meet again.

You've never failed me. Thank you. Je suis à toi pour toujours.

I love you,

John."


	38. Please, God, Let Me Live

**Author's Note: **It is almost 1 o'clock in the morning and I'm sitting here, typing this chapter, sobbing, eating chocolate, and drinking Sprite. It sounds like a gross combination and it is, but chocolate makes me happy and Sprite is like my whiskey. So piss off and enjoy this painful chapter. Prepare. I'm squealing this is my favorite chapter. *waits for more death threats and yelling of readers because they "can't even"*

* * *

><p><em>The last thing John remembered was running. He was running on the uneven ground of a foreign country. Again, he had made the decision to run after someone who already had their mind set on suicide. He must have. Anyone who would run into open fire like that knew they wouldn't live through it. For John it wasn't entirely impulse. He wouldn't let someone give up because he had wanted to so many times. He knew what it felt like. He would sit there and he wouldn't fire his gun for what felt like hours. Over the sounds of the other guns and the explosions, no one could hear him crying. At night, no one could see him shake. He cried because he didn't know what to do. He kept telling himself that it would get better. He kept telling himself that he couldn't give up because he had to see Baker Street one more time. He had to feel Sherlock's lips on his again. He needed to crawl into bed and feel Sherlock's breaths on his neck. He needed to tell him how much he loved him. Even when he was mad at Sherlock for doubting it or doing drugs again, he loved him and cared for him above all else. His letters would never enough. He needed to <em>show _Sherlock how much he cared. He needed more than words. But he had just run out into the field. He may as well have turned his own gun on himself and shot, hoping beyond hope that there weren't any bullets left. _

Will you come back to me?

Yes.

Promise me.

I promise.

_That's what kept him still. It kept him from running out to his death. But this time it wasn't strong enough. He had given up. He ran out, wanting to help the man who ran before him but hardly caring that he could die as well._

_He ran for that man until a sharp pain in his shoulder slowed him down. He struggled to keep going until a second bullet pierced his chest. His body felt numb as he fell to the ground. His vision began to fail him. He blinked hard, trying to stay awake. _

_A bomb went off somewhere to his left and he looked over to see dirt, chunks of the earth and even parts of his friends fly through the air._

_He began to feel the pain and winced. From his shoulder, it spread to the tips of his fingers and across his chest where the other wound gave him pain through the rest of his body._

_John groaned as he looked down to see his shirt stained with his blood. He moved slowly so he didn't attract attention and unbuttoned his shirt with his right hand, rolling it into a ball and pressing it to his wounds, trying to stop blood loss._

_He began to care again. He remembered why he had spent nights sobbing and shaking. He remembered why he had to live through this._

_It hurt so bad. His chest hurt. His shoulder hurt. It hurt that he would never have the chance to propose to Sherlock. It hurt that he would never stand in front of a crowd and feel his nervous kiss. It hurt that he would never be able to pull away and smile, still feeling Sherlock's chest moving up and down against him. It hurt that he would never make love to him again. It hurt that he would never have a son to be the center of his world. It hurt that he would never say another word to the love of his life. It hurt that he would never look at him and admire the color of his eyes._

_He couldn't catch his breath and coughed up blood. _

_He knew no one could save him now. He knew none of them would run out into this madness. None of them were willing to risk their lives for him. Any other time he may have felt forgotten or abandoned but he knew he couldn't expect anyone to be as crazy as him. He couldn't expect anyone to die trying to save him when he was too far gone. _

_He knew Sherlock would try, though. The thought made him laugh a bit. Sherlock would run out right away and lay there with him. He would die out there if only to be with John in his last moments._

_He looked to the side and he saw Sherlock walking toward him, holding the hand of a small child. The one he had seen in his dreams. He noticed the ring on Sherlock's left hand and smiled a little. They were gone just as quickly as they appeared. He still remembered his eyes so clearly. The perfect shade of blue with a small __(modest?) __stroke of green. He was the last thing he thought- he wished- to see._

_He looked up to the sky and then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath that rumbled in his chest._

"_Please, God," he whispered as tears rolled down his face into the dirt. "Let me live."_


End file.
